


Rinse and Repeat

by captainhollyshortofthelep



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhollyshortofthelep/pseuds/captainhollyshortofthelep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck Shurley isn't a huge fan of this whole 'Prophet of the Lord' business, so when he gets a glimpse at the true nature of Dean and Cas's relationship...well he'd rather scratch his eyes out with a toothpick. He's relieved to find that Sam seems to be in the same boat. Basically just Chuck hating his life, Dean and Cas getting cosy and Sam being caught between being grossed out, and being happy for them. Oh, and Chuck is not the Virgin Mary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rinse and Repeat

**' _That One Time Castiel Thought It Would Be An Awesome Idea to Take Chuck Out of His Cave and Force Him to Sit Uncomfortably with Sam While Dean and Cas Sorted Out Their ..._ Feelings _'_**

_**(** _ **or, alternatively** **_' Rinse and Repeat')_** 

It was, one might call, a relatively normal day for Chuck.

He'd woken up, got out of bed, got a migraine, got back into bed, had a creepy vision, got back out of bed, went to his computer, wrote down what he'd seen, then got himself a coffee...and then got back into bed.

Rinse and repeat.

It was starting to take its toll, this whole 'Prophet of the Lord' thing. And it was kinda pissing him off. The next time he had to see Dean Winchester pick up another chick, or Sam Winchester _lose_ another chick, he was seriously going to throw something. Hard. And it was probably going to be at them. Luckily for the time being the two emotionally stunted brothers seemed to be having another of their patented Winchester Black Hole Arguments _(define_ 'Winchester Black Hole Argument': Sucking all happy thoughts and memories from every other being in a twenty mile radius, while still _not_ talking about their emotions, as that would entail having a 'Chick-Flick Moment') so instead of 'mingling' with chicks (and even a couple of dudes in a certain older Winchester's case (that one had been a real eye-opener for poor Chuck who'd really just wanted to _leave right then_ )) they were moping around in the same crappy motel room pretending not to notice that the other was there at all.

I mean, it sucked. Chuck hated watching them argue. It made his headaches much, _much_ worse. But it was better than the alternative.

Chuck didn't even know what they were arguing about. In his previous vision the two seemed to be fine. They ganked a couple of demons in Houston, a witch in Miami, and then drove up to Chicago for the weekend. Castiel had even dropped in the back seat to keep them company, so Dean was in a spectacularly good mood for once. He even let Sam drive. Which hardly ever happened.

Chuck knew that things were bad, of course. The apocalypse wasn't exactly a _good_ thing after all. But Dean had been happy, and staring at Castiel over his shoulder in that weird way that he did, while Sam shuffled uncomfortably in the driver's seat, turning up Coldplay as loud as it would go to valiantly ignore the staring contest going up between shotgun and the back seat.

Apparently that worked as Dean had started grumbling about Sam's music tastes and 'why the hell couldn't they just listen to Zeppelin?' and things were back to normal.

That had been about where his previous vision had stopped. Then Chuck had had a few hours to recover before the next one...which had appeared to have skipped an entire _day_ or something as now Dean and Sam weren't talking and Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

Chuck sighed as he sat at his computer, rubbing absently at his forehead. He was pretty sure this counted as something important he was meant to write. So was he supposed to guess the cause of their frustration...or ask them...? God, no. He wasn't going to _ask_. Chuck visibly shuddered in his computer chair.

“The last thing I want is to get dragged _into_ it,” he muttered to himself, going through the last paragraph he'd written and editing it until it made as much sense as it could – even out of context.

“Get dragged into what?”

Oh god. Here it goes. Stupid bloody angels always turning up when he didn't bloody want them to. And he even knew who this angel was. This wasn't going to bode well for him.

“Another Winchester Black Hole Argument,” he explained. He rose from his chair, and instead sat on his desk. “I've seen enough happen to know that I don't ever, _ever_ want to be stuck in the middle of one.”

Castiel's head was tilted slightly to one side in confusion. It was a common look for him. Chuck wasn't particularly perturbed. At least Castiel was a _nice_ angel, not like Chuck's apparent 'protector'.

“Sam and Dean are fighting?” The angel looked even more confused if that was possible.

“Uh yeah. According to my last vision. I don't know why though. It didn't show me that part.”

Castiel walked forward, still unblinkingly staring at Chuck. It was creepy as hell, and Chuck wanted nothing more than to back-peddle over the desk, but the angel appeared to mean no harm. “I was there just seconds ago. They were not arguing.”

“Hmmm well I often get visions of things before they happen, right? So maybe they're not fighting yet – or they're fighting right now or something. I mean, it's pretty messed up I... _what the hell_?”

While Chuck was talking Castiel had come closer and closer until he could lay his hand on Chuck's shoulder...and then they simply weren't at Chuck's house anymore. In fact, they didn't appear to be anywhere close. And dammit. He could hear Sam and Dean.

“You just need to suck it up and talk to the guy. It's not rocket science. It's not even hunter science.”

“Right, Sammy. 'Cause my best bet here is to rock up to him and say 'Hey, Cas. I know I always said I was straight but I actually lied and your vessel is totally doing it for me right now.'”

“All I'm saying Dean, is that it's the apocalypse. This is something that's totally happening right now and maybe you deserve an ounce of happiness before the world comes to an end.”

The fighting was coming closer. Castiel had wisely transported them into what appeared to be a large broom closet which Chuck assumed was next to, or at least somewhat near the motel room that the brothers were staying in.

“Dude, I'm not doing jack squat about this _because_ it's the apocalypse. We need a plan. And not 'accepting our roles' or whatever the hell Gabriel was trying to get us to do. Like an honest to god plan.”

“Gabriel isn't on the side of the angels and you know it, Dean. He's just trying to stop the war.”

“Well he's doing a dumb job. I mean, TV land was bad enough without him messing with things that aren't his friggin business.”

Sam was laughing. Chuck thought that he may have missed something in his visions about one of their many ordeals with the trickster.

“He was just trying to innocently matchmake.”

“By setting me up with people who look like Cas? Yeah. Innocent. The next time I see him, I'm ganking him. I don't even care anymore. But this crap has got to stop.”

“Well maybe it will if you just talk to Cas about it. I mean, Dude's pretty attached to you. I think he'd probably welcome it.”

Chuck shuffled uncomfortably next to Castiel who didn't seem to be bothered at all by what was being said in the other room. In fact, he looked like he already...knew?

“Can you get me out of here?” Chuck whispered harshly to the angel. “I get it. I didn't need to know why they were fighting.”

Castiel just looked at him, raised an eyebrow and _freaking opened the cupboard and walked out into the room that Sam and Dean were arguing in._

“Sam. Dean,” he said politely, nodding at them each in turn.

Dean looked like he'd quite like to disappear into the floor. Chuck understood the sentiment. He was feeling about the same.

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed, seeming way to happy about their current predicament. Wow. No wonder the brothers weren't talking. Chuck would have been pissed at him too.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Dean growled, ignoring Cas completely and instead looking at Chuck.

“Uhmm...”

“I went to check on Chuck. He was concerned for your well being.”

Chuck would have probably glared at the angel if it had been anyone else. But no. Scary Angel of the Lord who had the power to smite him with a thought. “Uhmm...yup,” he said instead, weakly...and not particularly usefully.

The looks Sam and Dean gave him were withering.

“Concerned?” Sam asked. He still looked mostly amused though.

Dean frowned even harder. “Why the hell are you concerned? We're fine. Everything's peachy. Cas, take him and leave.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that, Dean.”

Dean crossed his arms, leaning back against the only table in the room. “Can't, or won't, Cas?”

“Both.”

Chuck was suddenly more than relieved that Cas had at least kept some distance between the two of them when he'd been creep staring earlier. Because _this_...this was really something.

Dean and Cas weren't actually touching. Well, not _yet._ But there was a tangible tension in the room, a bizarre electricity that shouldn't have been possible. But Cas was an angel, after all. So maybe Chuck wasn't just imagining it.

He glanced sideways at Sam who was twitching uncomfortably. Right. So he felt it too.

“How much did you hear?”

Dean's voice was low, lower that Chuck had ever heard it. It was like freaking Batman...and that was something that he didn't think he'd ever forget, goddammit. Favourite superhero officially ruined forever.

“Enough,” Cas replied evenly, his pitch matching Dean's.

Chuck was reminded of some dumb porno he'd watched months back. He didn't _want_ to be reminded of it. He wanted to _leave._

He looked at Sam again, but the stupid giant was apparently just as invested in his brother's happiness as Chuck had seen in his visions. The poor guy was actually holding his breath, waiting for some declaration of love that just wasn't going to come because it was _Dean._ And Dean Winchester did not do Chick-Flick Moments.

Chuck was then taken back to his last vision of Sam and Dean's silent fight and wondered how the hell that would come out of this...when he was thrown painfully into another one.

It was sudden, and not as intense as usual. The vision itself wasn't clear, rather came in distant flashes of images and distorted sounds. It took Chuck a few moments to figure out what was happening, and then he was desperately trying to simultaneously leave the vision and wipe his mind of what he'd seen and heard.

It took a couple of agonising seconds until he was finally free and throwing himself at Sam.

“We need to get out of here.”

Sam looked like a bewildered dog. “What? Why?”

Chuck considered not telling him the truth. Then realised that perhaps it was actually going to be the most effective and efficient way of getting them the hell out. “Because they're about to have sex against the wall you're currently leaning against, and then on the floor, and then on the bed, and then in the showe-”

“Okay, okay!” Sam appeared even more disturbed than Chuck. Which was saying something. “Leaving now. Have fun you two!”

But Dean and Cas hadn't appeared to have heard any of the commotion as they were apparently in the middle of some competition involving mouths and hands and...right. Chuck really didn't want to be there.

 ---

Finally exiting the room felt a lot like that moment in any action film where the protagonist had just outrun the crazy mutant hamster chasing them and had a moment to recover.

A glance at Sam just added to Chuck's weird thought as the freakishly tall man gave him one of those 'I just escaped hell' looks. Which he hadn't. That was his brother.

Though, Chuck supposed, at this point it wouldn't have particularly surprised him if the Winchesters could simply share memories. It would just add yet another layer to their creepy codependency.

“So they're a...thing...” he finally mumbled intelligently. The silence between them was just getting weird.

“Uh yeah. I guess,” Sam replied just as awkwardly. He stuffed his hands in his massive ass pockets and rocked backwards and forwards on his heels.

Nothing was worse than knowing that two people you knew really well were doing the nasty in a room you needed to get into because it had the keys to the getaway car.

Chuck couldn't deal with it anymore (not to mention that Sam had actually started _humming.._.God...was that Paul Simon? Good grief. They had to get out of there.) “Please tell me this motel has a bar. I need a drink like...half an hour ago.”

Sam chuckled for a moment, glancing soulfully (seriously? Really? Did he look at _everything_ in that creepy way?) at the motel room that Dean and Cas were no doubt destroying in their mad rush to get at each other. He sobered for a second as he grinned at Chuck. “Yeah, I suppose getting drunk sounds like a great idea right now. The last thing I need is to think about what they're getting...” He paused, the colour slowly draining from his face. “God. Let's go now before I think about it again.”

 ---

And just like that, Chuck and Sam bonded over their mutual disgust of seeing too much of Dean and Cas's love life, and true to their word got completely drunk off their heads. To the point that Dean actually had to escort them back to their room (a different motel room, thank God) so they could collapse and deal with their hangovers in peace (ie without hearing whatever the hunter and angel were getting up to two doors down).

Chuck considered the whole venture rather pointless, and preferred that he'd stayed at home, but in the end, at least Sam didn't want to kill him anymore, and actually found the idea of Chuck's books kinda funny. Though not really. He still looked pretty pissed (in more ways than one).

It took Cas a couple of days to separate himself from Dean (Sam may have helped by finding them a hunt that they _couldn't miss, Dean. This is very important and there are lives at stake)_ but at least he gave Chuck a lift home by angel teleport. Getting stuck in Chicago would have been _awkward._ And Cas even stayed a little bit. Granted he spent the whole hour standing in the corner in silence while Chuck pretended to sleep. But it was comforting in a really weird way.

“Don't you want to get back to Dean?” Chuck asked finally. The staring was just too much.

Cas squinted at him. “I suppose.”

“I mean, besides the obvious, they're probably arguing now. You might want to help sort it out. I foresaw it after all.”

“They're not arguing.”

Chuck sighed. So much for getting rid of the creepy angel. “And how do you know that? Is a psychic link part of a strange angel mating ritual?”

The angel in question didn't look particularly offended, thank God. Chuck had nearly forgotten that this socially awkward being could actually kill him if he wanted to. Though Cas didn't look foreboding in his Holy Tax Accountant get up. It was hard to imagine that he'd been around since the beginning of creation when his tie was on backwards.

“Angels can establish psychic connections if they wish,” Castiel explained calmly. “However, as I feel that would betray Dean's trust in me, I thought it wise not to attempt it.”

“Then how do you know that they're not arguing?”

Castiel gave him...what was that? A smug smile? No way. “Because I planted a false prophesy in your mind.”

“You planted a...” Chuck paused, giving the _grinning angel_ his best 'what the hell? Why would you do that to me? I thought we were sort of friends' look. “Why?”

Castiel sighed, picking absently at the shoulder of his filthy trench coat. “Because I needed an excuse to see Dean without him getting suspicious.”

Chuck almost forgot how to speak. Castiel had _what?_ “You...set yourself up with Dean?”

The look Cas gave him was scathing. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not _that_ inept with human interaction. You forget, Chuck Shurley. I have been observing the Earth for over ten millennia. I've learnt a few things in my time, including the art of seduction. Now, if you don't mind, I have a very willing sexual partner to return to.”

And with that piece of _too much information_ Cas simply disappeared, the distant sound of wings surrounding the now empty room.

Chuck gave himself a few minutes to simply breathe and try to wipe the last three days from his memory before getting into bed, only to wake up, get out of bed, get a migraine, get back into bed, have a creepy vision, get back out of bed, go to his computer, write down what he'd seen, then get himself a coffee...and then get back into bed.

Rinse and repeat.

Rinse

and

repeat.

Chuck was getting passed the point of being _really hacked off_ about this whole 'Prophet of the Lord' thing. The freaking angels had better be making it friggin worth it.

Of course at that moment the archangel Gabriel decided to descend to Earth in his full sarcastic glory.

“Do not be afraid,” he said in a slurring monotone. There appeared four Twizzlers hanging from his mouth, and a giant Hersey's bar clutched protectively in one hand. Chuck found that of all angels to be afraid of...this probably wasn't the one.

“I mean, you're totally pregnant with God's kid and everything. But I'm not really that scary. You should meet my brother Michael. He'll scare the bejeezus out of you...quite literally in your case. And...oh Jesus _Christ_ you're a dude. I really need to stop delivering messages when I'm drunk.”

At that point Gabriel realised that he'd teleported himself two thousand years too late and Chuck wasn't actually the Virgin Mary, and perhaps he should practise his speech before trying it next time. And then disappeared again.

_I suppose it could be worse,_ Chuck thought as he sat himself back down at his computer, _I could be pregnant. Being a prophet's not actually that bad, you know, comparatively._

This surprisingly cheerful thought was taken back immediately the next time he got mixed up with the Winchesters. Perhaps some things really weren't really worth it after all.

**The End**


End file.
